


You’re A Sweet Little Headache

by dancinbutterfly



Series: Tiny angry omega Steve [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Arguing, Brooklyn, Caretaking, Fighting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Stubborn Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 19:38:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8114935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancinbutterfly/pseuds/dancinbutterfly
Summary: “Say sweet and I will clock you in the fucking mouth, Buck. God as my witness, I will.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [An Errant Tumbleweed (cryogenia)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryogenia/gifts).



> Written for my little 700 Followers Fic Prompt open call thing. This particular prompt was ">.> I would elaborate and say I’m always a slut for cute abo Stucky" for [buckyballbearing](http://buckyballbearing.tumblr.com/). It started cute and it definitely has ABO. IDK what happened though...
> 
> I hope you enjoy it though, even if it is a bit of a tonal shift from my normal stuff.

“Stay still and maybe it won’t sting so much,” Bucky orders and Steve sighs. They’ve been through this what feels like a thousand times, Bucky sitting or standing bent over Steve trying to wipe away blood with an iodine soaked rag while Steve twitched and glared. This time seems worse than normal to Bucky. He can’t put his finger on why, and it’s not even because this time Steve’s got a nice shiner to go with his split lip and busted nose. “You haven’t even told me what they were doing this time, Steve. No rant on the right to strike or how they need to stop bothering Mr. Polodopous about his accent? No cats with cans tied to their tails? Come on,” he gives Steve what he hopes is an encouraging smile. “Finding out why they deserved it is my favorite part.”

Steve just shrugs. He winces away when Bucky touch the iodine rag to the actual wound in his lip, instead of just cleaning away the mess. He’s sullen and despite the fact that they’ve been home a good half hour and out of the fight for forty-five minutes, he’s still panting. It’s starting to make Bucky nervous for Steve’s asthma.

“Steve?”

“I didn’t like they way they were looking.”

“At an omega?”

“At me.” He shrugs again and winces. “Told them to keep their eyes to themselves or I’d give them something to look at.”

“I take it they didn’t like it.”

“They laughed at me.”

Oh Steve, Bucky bites back. He knows better than to say it. He just gives him a lopsided smile instead. “Weren’t laughing when I found you.”

“No they weren’t,” Steve agreed, giving Bucky a smile that’s a little feral. 

There’s still blood on his teeth from where they cut his full lower lip. The sight makes Bucky for some reason he can’t put his finger on. It’s not like he’s never seen it before after all. This time, though, this time is different.

“Jeez, Buck, can we crack a window or something?” He looks around Bucky’s small apartment critically. “It’s boiling in here.”

It’s 45 degrees outside and Bucky hasn’t had a chance to turn on the radiator since he got Steve back to his place. He’s still got his coat on but Steve’s all the way down to his undershirt and looking flushed. Bucky frowns.

“It’s freezing in here, Steve.”

“What? No it’s-“ He looks around, then out the window at the grey late autumn sky. The sun is setting and there’s no trees in Bucky’s view but the signs are still there. He snaps his teeth shut with a click. “Oh.”

“I’m going to go call your ma.” No one has a phone in his building but there’s a phone booth down the street about a block. He can be there and back in ten minutes tops.

“She’s at work, Buck, don’t.” Steve protests catching his wrist. His hand is so hot that Bucky can feel the touch branding his skin.

“Steve, you’re burning up.” He drops the rag and presses his free hand to Steve’s forehead. It’s hot to the touch, just like all those times Steve has had a fever but strangely dry, no sweat, and that makes Bucky even more nervous. “You know she’d want me to call.”

“I’m fine. I feel fine. Just hot and, I don’t know, itchy, like there’s something under my skin. I don’t feel sick.”

“You wouldn’t admit you were sick when you were dying,” Bucky says and it’s not an exaggeration. One of his most vivid childhood memories is of Steve, tiny and frail, protesting that he “was feeling good, mama,” when he was burning with scarlet fever, a priest standing over him to deliver Last Rites. He had gotten better thank God but at the time he’d been anything but fine.

That gets a smile out of Steve and a nod. “Okay, but I’m not dying buck. I’m just overheated.”

And then it clicks.

Bucky doesn’t laugh because he knows better than to laugh at Steve, especially over something like this. What he’s doing is kicking himself for not realizing what was going on as soon as he scooped Steve off the pavement.

In his defense, he tends to jump to worse case scenarios when it comes to Steve’s health. It never occurred to him that Steve, with his history of missteps and near-misses, could be doing something as normal as presenting. He just sort of assumed when he didn’t have a rut or a heat in high school with the rest of them that Steve was a beta.

Presenting in your early twenties wasn’t unheard of. Uncle Simon didn’t have his first heat until he was almost twenty-three while Steve only turned twenty-one over the summer. According to the vaguest of family stories, it had been pretty rough on him but Simon’d always seemed healthy to Bucky. He and Uncle Jake had five pups so it obviously didn’t mean anything was broken downstairs.

Late presentation wasn’t common, though, which just figured. Leave it to Steve to take the less beaten path no matter where the hell he was going.

He takes a deep breath and there it is. Now that he knows what he’s looking for, he can smell omega heat-sweetness under the tang of blood and iodine.

“Hey Steve, remember last fall, when Becca stayed home from school?”

Steve nods. “She presented, took heat leave.”

“Yeah. Listen, Steve, I’m not a doctor or anything, but I think…” He clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck. “I think that’s what happening with you.”

“Very funny, pal. Pull the other one and it plays Pennies from Heaven.”

“Hey, I-“ He stops because really, what was about to fall from his lips is not something you’re supposed to just say. It’s rude.

“You what?”

Fuck it, Bucky thinks. Etiquette has never stopped them from talking to each other before about anything they were thinking. He won’t let it stop him now. “I caught your scent.”

At that, Steve stumbles back, eyes wide. “The hell you did.”

He must have started sweating or something because all at once the smell goes from barely there to a smack in the face. “I did. Steve, I did and it’s- It’s so damn s-“

“Say sweet and I will clock you in the fucking mouth, Buck. God as my witness, I will.”

“Okay. I won’t say it.” Bucky says, swallowing. He drops his hands, letting the bloody rag fall to the floor and shoves his hands in his pockets and wills himself not to break his gaze from Steve’s as his glare becomes razor sharp.

“Fuck you,” Steve spits. “Fuck. You.”

“If you want,” Bucky croaks because he is an asshole. Of course he is. Only an asshole could enjoy spending as much time with an asshole like Steve.

Steve gapes at him for a long moment, fists balling and unballing at his sides. He grabs his shirt and coat off the chair he dropped them on and makes for the door but he pauses with it open to turn back and meet Bucky with furious, glistening blue eyes. “Hey Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

With a rage that only a decade and a half of friendship has taught Bucky to recognize as a mask for deep hurt, Steve snarls, “Go to hell.”

The sound of the door slamming feels like that sock in the jaw Steve was promising. 

Honestly, Bucky thinks that the punch would’ve been kinder.

**Author's Note:**

> Come scream with me about feelings, fiction and fic on [tumblr](http://dancinbutterfly.tumblr.com/)


End file.
